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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792366">What Remains</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoejoy24/pseuds/Zoejoy24'>Zoejoy24</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Prodigal Son (TV 2019)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Broyo, Canon Character of Color, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Hurt Malcolm Bright, Kink Meme, M/M, Malcolm Bright Gets a Hug, Malcolm Bright Needs a Hug, Malcolm Bright Whump, Older Man/Younger Man, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Rape Recovery, Torture, Unconscious Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 17:49:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,484</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22792366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoejoy24/pseuds/Zoejoy24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt on the <a href="https://prodigal-kink.dreamwidth.org/447.html?thread=27839#cmt27839">Prodigal Son Kink Meme</a> :</p><p>When John kidnaps Malcolm, in addition to torturing/physically hurting Malcolm, he also sexually assaults him. How far this goes and whether it is shown in the story or only referenced/happens before the story is up to you!</p><p>But, what I'm really interested in is how it affects Gil and Mal's relationship. Was their relationship secret? Is it still? How do they navigate that? How does Gil help Mal to heal? Does Mal let him help or try to shut him out? How do they relearn intimacy together?</p><p>This is also a fill for the Grabbed by the Hair Square on my Bad Things Happen Bingo Card.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo [5]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Bad Things Happen Bingo, Prodigal Son Kink Meme</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. You Were Made for Me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well this turned out to be much longer than I had originally anticipated, but there's a lot to cover so I'm okay with that.</p><p>The first chapter contains all the rape/non-con, and the following chapters are the recovery and rebuilding of the relationship, so if you don't want to read the first part, you can just skip to the next chapter and move on to the angst and happy ending parts.  You should be able to get the general gist of what happens in the first chapter by looking at the tags.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span><em>“Hurts like a son of a bitch, doesn’t it?  Yeah, I know…</em> maybe I can help take your mind off of it?  Give you a distraction,” John muses as he stands over Malcolm, looks him over in consideration.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm doesn’t reply, doesn’t move.  He’s too tired, and it </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt, more than any pain he’s ever experienced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John shoves the tip of his boot into Malcolm’s shoulder and pushes him onto his back.  Malcolm lets out a ragged cry as the force of the movement pulls at the wound, the pain that he’d finally begun to manage returning once more.  John crouches next to him and grips his face with one hand, turns his head so he’s forced to look up at him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm, there you are.  What do you think, Malcolm?  Should we have some more fun?  You’re not really my type, but I think I can make an exception, for you,” he says, a malicious smile spreading across his face as he looks Malcolm over.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What type is that, then?” Malcolm asks, curiosity getting the best of him even as his skin crawls beneath John’s leering gaze when he realizes what John is intending to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Alive</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” John replies, chuckling at the way Malcolm’s eyes widen in shock at the answer.  “Don’t worry Malcolm, I’m not going to kill you. Like I said, I can make an exception for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You really don’t have too,” Malcolm gasps out as he tries to turn away from John.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s smile fades as Malcolm starts to struggle, and he releases his face only to slap him, hard.  Malcolm sucks in a pained breath and stills, stunned but the sudden blow. John seizes the opportunity and stands, fists his hands in Malcolm’s bloody shirt and drags him so his arms are stretched above his head, chain pulled taught.  Malcolm recovers quickly and begins to struggle, but he’s weak from blood loss and pain. John shoves his thumb cruelly into the stab wound and Malcolm shrieks, back bowing in pain until John finally moves his hand away. Malcolm slumps to the ground, chest heaving as he struggles to breath through the agony that threatens to overcome him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Watkins, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he gasps out.  “This isn’t--you’re not--you don’t have to do this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Malcolm, you should be grateful.  I’m doing this for you, remember? A distraction.  Something to think about besides the pain,” John replies, dropping to his knees over Malcolm, straddling his legs, just below his hips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not… you’re just hurting me more,” Malcolm chokes out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John purses his lips, nods, conceding the point, but doesn’t stop.  He sits back on Malcolm’s thighs, holds him easily in place while his hands go to Malcolm’s belt, loosening it and undoing the button and fly on his pants.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm can see that John is already hard, his erection tenting the front of his pants as he yanks down Malcolm’s trousers, pulls them halfway down his thighs before grabbing his hips and flipping him over in one quick motion.  Malcolm </span>
  <em>
    <span>screams </span>
  </em>
  <span>as his wounded side is slammed into the hard floor and his world goes white for several moments, the pain tidal wave of all-consuming agony.  John doesn’t wait for him to recover, it’s likely he doesn't care if Malcolm is conscious, or if he’s even breathing. He runs his hand over Malcolm’s injured side, strokes over the wound like a lover’s caress and moans as his fingers slide through the blood oozing past Malcolm’s makeshift bandage.  He’s rutting against Malcolm’s bared ass, rough fabric scraping across the sensitive skin there as his hips twitch in eager little thrusts. Overwhelmed by pain and panic, Malcolm can only lay there, waiting for what he knows is to come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John drags his fingers down along Malcolm’s flank, over his hip and the swell of his ass, leaving trails of blood from his fingertips across Malcolm’s skin before slipping them between his cheeks and pressing in with one finger tip without warning.  Malcolm thrashes weakly as he feels John’s finger push past the tight furl of muscles at his entrance, eyes flying wide in shock as he realizes the slickness easing the way is his own blood, gasping out a ragged cry of protest.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t usually have to worry about this part, but I don’t want to ruin you.  Not entirely,” John murmurs, ignoring his pleas. He pulls his finger out, wets it again in Malcolm’s blood before pushing back in fully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Malcolm</span>
  </em>
  <span>, what’s this?” he hisses out as his finger slides in easily, Malcolm’s body opening to him reflexively, betraying him.  “This isn’t your first time, is it?” he asks as he slides in a second finger beside the first.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm whimpers beneath him but doesn’t answer, refusing to give John anything he can use against him.  “Who is it, hmm? Who fucks this pretty little ass of yours? One of your police friends? Or do you pay for it?  Spoiled little rich boy,” John muses, fingers pressing and twisting inside him all the while.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm squeezes his eyes tight, the pained little moans escaping between his lips sounding pitiful even to him as he lays there, lets John open him, because it's better than the alternative.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John leans over him, buries his fingers in Malcolm’s hair and twists his head to the side, baring Malcolm’s neck.  He licks a long, broad stripe up the column of Malcolm’s throat, over his jaw, up to his ear and whispers, “Are you thinking of them?  Are you enjoying this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm shakes his head as best he can in John’s harsh grip and whispers a desperate ‘no.’  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's true.  He’s in too much real pain for his body to react to any sort of pleasure stimulus, he’s too tired, and it's likely he’s lost too much blood, anyways.  Plus, much to his relief, John really doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s not hitting that spot inside of Malcolm that’s sure to get a response, isn’t even trying, and he hasn’t shown any interest in touching Malcolm anywhere else, either.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not usually a concern when your victim is dead, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he guesses.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Plus, Malcolm refuses to think about Gil right now.  He refuses to let himself equate what’s happening now with what he has with the older man, refuses to try to somehow use his memories of what they do together to try to make this situation more bearable.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John’s fingers slide out of him fully and the weight on the backs of Malcolm’s thighs vanishes momentarily when John goes up onto his knees and starts to work at his own belt and pants.  It takes only a moment and then his hands are back, one clutching at Malcolm’s hip as the other returns to his wounded side, rubbing up and down his flank in a twisted caress once more. Malcolm can feel John against him, feels his cock slip down between his cheeks, tip nudging against him and it sends a spike of panicked adrenaline through him, urging him to fight against John’s hold on him once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop, </span>
  <em>
    <span>no</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Don’t do this,” he gasps out, twisting as far as he can to try to catch John’s eye, to reason with him one last time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John growls in anger, wraps his hand around Malcolm’s side, pushing him flat against the ground once more before digging his fingers deep into the stab wound.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm’s mouth opens in a wordless scream as the pain overtakes all of his other senses and he goes limp, darkness consuming him as he’s pushed over the brink into unconsciousness.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When Malcolm wakes, he’s alone, but he knows immediately that John finished the job.  He can feel the evidence of it in the ache of his body and the sticky slickness of come on the inside of his thighs.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John hadn’t been deterred by his lack of consciousness--he’d probably been even more aroused by it, based on what he’d said earlier about his </span>
  <em>
    <span>type</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Malcolm gags suddenly, swallows down the bile that threatens to rise in his throat as an image of John fucking his dead body surges to the forefront of his mind.  He shudders, pushes the thought away, tries to focus on something, </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span> else.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His pants are still pooled down around his knees and he shivers with cold and disgust.  He drags himself forward, creates enough slack in the chains so that he can pull them pants back into place.  He checks his wound gingerly, finds that his makeshift bandage is still mostly in place, and despite the abuse it had taken earlier the flow of blood was still little more than an oozing trickle.  He sinks back to the floor slowly, exhausted by the effort and from what he’s just been through.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door across the room creaks, swings open and he shudders at the sound, cringes at the thud of John’s boots as he walks across the room towards him.  He pushes himself up weakly, tries to get his legs under him so he can kneel but John kicks his hand out from under him, sends him sprawling back down with a groan.  He doesn’t try again. John crouches in front of him, tilts his head to the side as he looks Malcolm over with a twisted grin on his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“My, my, Malcolm, what a treat that was.  Turns out you may be my type after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm shakes his head.  “‘M not,” he mumbles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm, but you felt so good, Malcolm.  So tight and </span>
  <em>
    <span>hot</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  I’d forgotten how that felt, but you reminded me.  I can’t wait to get to know you better. We have so much time ahead of us, so many chances to get to know each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm grimaces, squeezes his eyes shut tight as he tries not to think about it, pushes away the phantom memories of John’s hands on him.  The sound of clothes rustling is the only warning he has before John is right there in front of him, twisting a hand into Malcolm’s hair and pulling him up.  Malcolm cries out, scrabbles to get his hands and legs under him, to relieve the pressure on his scalp as John pulls him up to his knees.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kneels in front of Malcolm, mirroring his position, and keeps his hand fisted in Malcolm’s hair, forces his head up so John can look him in the eyes as he speaks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have two choices, Malcolm.  You can accept this, accept me, or you can fight it.  The longer you fight, the worse it will be for you. This is your calling, Malcolm.  You’re meant to be with me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Malcolm grits out.  “I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> yours.  I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span>...  I’m not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Malcolm, Malcolm, Malcolm.  No one will want you now. Who would ever take you back, once they learn what you’ve done?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What I’ve done?” Malcolm spits.  “I haven’t done anything. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>raped</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That doesn’t change anything!  You're dirty now. Ruined. You know the, uhh...  the </span>
  <em>
    <span>partners</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’m accustomed to having.  But, now I’ve had you, made you mine just like them.  So who could possibly want you now?” John asks, and his voice is soft, almost caring.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He lets go of Malcolm’s hair, cups his chin in his hand instead and rubs his thumb over Malcolm’s cheek.  He sweeps his hand down, over the column of Malcolm’s throat, slides his fingers under the collar of his shirt and squeezes his shoulder lightly, caressing the thin skin over his collarbone with feather light touches.  Malcolm shudders, twists away violently enough that he nearly topples over. John catches him, twists his fingers into the hair at the nape of Malcolm’s neck and tugs sharply, forcing Malcolm’s head back painfully. He rises up onto his knees to lean over Malcolm and for a terrifying moment as John stares down at him Malcolm thinks he might try to kiss him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He snarls in disgust instead, flings Malcolm away and sends him toppling back to the ground.  He shoves his hand under the hem of Malcolm’s shirt, runs it along his chest, scrapes his fingernails down across his belly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were so perfect for me, Malcolm.  I would have enjoyed you anyways, but to have you like </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>… You took it so well, gave me exactly what I needed.”  John groans, digs his fingers into the muscles above Malcolm’s hips, dips his fingers down past his waistband, scrapes his fingernails along the soft skin there. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm closes his eyes, tries to block out the sound of John’s voice, to ignore the feeling of his hands on Malcolm’s skin as he touches him, hands sickeningly busy over his body as he explores every inch of him that he can reach like he’s claiming him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Malcolm,” he murmurs softly, almost reverently.  “No one will ever understand you like I do. I was there in the beginning.  No one can take care of you like I will. No one will want you, not like I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s right, Malcolm realizes.  John has laid claim to him in a way no one could overlook.  How can Gil, how can anyone want to be with him, knowing that a man who, up till Malcolm, had been more interested in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  And what did it say about Malcolm that John had wanted him, that Malcolm could give him what he wanted?  But, even if Gil never wanted to touch him again, he wouldn’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>completely</span>
  </em>
  <span> alone or unwanted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not true,” Malcolm insists, his voice a ragged moan.   “My family loves me, they always will.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your family, hmm?  It's true, you Whitly’s always did have strong family bonds.  It was your father’s weakness as well, the one thing that kept him from being truly dedicated.  And just like Martin, you love your family. It’s your fatal flaw.”   </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John sits back then, regards Malcolm for a long moment, then sighs deeply.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sacrifice will be your final trial,” he declares.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Malcolm asks, his thoughts slow and sluggish, confused by the sudden change of topics.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sacrifice.  But don’t worry, it won’t be something you have to do, just something you have to endure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John stands and walks to the canvas bag he’d dropped on the floor earlier and after a brief glance of consideration he grabs a wooden handle, pulls out an axe.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll do the doing,” he assures, smiling benevolently down at Malcolm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm stares blankly ahead, mind racing as he realizes what John means, what he intends to do, realizes there’s nothing he can do to stop him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“With your family gone, there’ll be no one left for you.  No reason for you to fight me, to resist your true calling,” John muses, twirling the axe absently, skilfully.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Watkins, no.  You don’t have to do this,” Malcolm chokes out, his voice finally coming back to him.  “</span>
  <em>
    <span>John</span>
  </em>
  <span>, stop.  Stay… I--I’ll give you what you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John pauses at the use of his first name, turns to consider Malcolm.  He stalks back over and drops into a crouch in front of him once more, rests the head of the axe against his own forehead, eyes narrowed as he studies Malcolm’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I don’t believe you,” he says quietly.  “You’d say anything right now, wouldn’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, but I’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything.  Willingly. Anything to make you stay,” Malcolm admits.  Then, he surges forward and presses his lips against the other man’s.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The shackles prevent him from bringing his hands up high enough to reach John’s face, but he rests them on his knees, steadies himself against John’s body, leans in and kisses him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>John responds almost instantly.  He groans into the kiss, shifts forward onto his knees and wraps a hand around Malcolm’s head, grabs him by the hair at the back of his head and takes control, angles Malcolm’s head back and to the side and deepens the kiss, pushes against Malcolm’s lips with his tongue, insistent and demanding.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm opens to him, nearly gags when John thrusts in, starts fucking his mouth with his tongue, possesive and controlling.  The sudden intensity of John’s response takes him by surprise and he nearly pulls away. Somehow, kissing John is far worse than what they’d--what John--had done earlier, the intimacy of it ten times stronger and Malcolm sobs against John’s lips as he lets himself be claimed, devoured by the other man.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span>, this was his doing, his choice, one he’ll never be able to take back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without warning, John pulls away, releasing Malcolm and standing in one fluid motion, hoisting the axe to his shoulder once more.  Malcolm slumps down, barely catching himself from falling over completely. He’s panting, eyes wide as he watches John, uncertain of what’s going through the other man’s mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh Malcolm.  You really are your father’s son.  Which is how I know that I have to do this.  You’ll understand, someday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm shakes his head, realizes that he’d done nothing to change John’s mind, that he still planned on killing his mother, his sister.  John turns away, something almost like regret in his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Watkins, </span>
  <em>
    <span>wait</span>
  </em>
  <span>!  John, stop!” Malcolm exclaims, but John ignores him, walks towards the door and pulls it open.  He pauses and a familiar sound reaches Malcolm’s ears. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s not a river, it's the subway,” Malcolm says, horror building as the pieces fall into place and he realizes--“We’re…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Home sweet home,” John says, swinging the axe with a smile before leaving the room and slamming the door behind him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Watch me as I Walk Away</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Then why won’t you look at me, huh?” Gil hisses.  “Why do you flinch every time I try to touch you?”</p>
<p>Malcolm pales, eyes widening in shock at the question before he pulls himself together, gets a handle on his emotions and stares Gil down cooly.</p>
<p>“I think you know why, <i>Lieutenant<i>,” he snarls.  “Stop acting like you don’t know what happened down there.”</i></i></p>
<p>
  <i>
    <i>“I have no idea, kid, because you haven’t talked to me since then!” Gil exclaims.  “I want to help you, Malcolm. You have no idea how badly I want-- But you won’t let me.”</i>
  </i>
</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Gil finally arrives at the Whitly house there are already two squad cars on the scene, and he can hear the sound of additional sirens approaching, probably the ambulances.  He’d called for back-up as soon as Martin had told him his fears about Watkins’ true location and intentions. He’d told Dani and JT, too, but they were miles away still, out at the cabin searching for additional clues in case Martin was wrong.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d spent the whole drive over praying that they weren’t too late.  The fear of losing Malcolm to the Junkyard Killer had been bad enough, but now, thinking that he could have gone after Jessica and Ainsley, too.  It’s almost too much, the terror of what he’ll find inside steals his breath, causes his heart to clench in his chest. He forces the fear down and runs up the stairs, takes two at a time, pushes the front door open and steps into the dark house.  There’s an officer just inside the door and Gil’s sudden entrance clearly takes him by surprise, but he flashes his badge and the uni relaxes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s the status?” Gil demands, eyes darting around the room, searching for any clues as to what’s happening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve got the suspect in custody, the rest of the team is sweeping the house, just in case.  Family is in the next room, bus is on the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil is moving before he even finishes speaking, hurrying through the familiar house into the sitting room.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He sees them immediately, all three Whitly’s gathered on one couch, sitting as closely as they can, arms wrapped around each other, Malcolm sandwiched between Jessica and Ainsley.  The room is dark, and he can’t make out many details, but he takes in what he can, gives the two women a quick once over, notices the dark stain of blood on Ainsley’s face, but he assures himself with the fact that she’s upright, eyes open and lucid.  Satisfied that they’re both okay he allows himself to turn his full attention to Malcolm.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’s slumped over, leaning heavily against Jessica, his head resting on her shoulder.  His hair is matted, dark with blood and his face is covered with it as well. His left hand is wrapped in a makeshift bandage and resting in his lap, and his sleeve is darkened with blood as well.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil sucks in a sharp breath and Jessica and Ainsley look up sharply, startled, but Malcolm doesn’t react.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gil</span>
  </em>
  <span>, thank God,” Jessica breathes out, and Malcolm stirs at that, turns his head in Gil’s direction, but the hair that’s fallen forward over his face keeps Gil from seeing his eyes.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He hurries over to their side, takes a knee in front of the couch and wraps his arm around Jessica and Ainsley’s shoulders, though his eyes are only for Malcolm.  He wants to gather the other man into his arms and never let go, to hold him close and feel him breathing in his arms. But he holds himself back. No one knows the true nature of their relationship, but if he lets himself show even a small amount of the emotions he’s feeling then he’s sure Jessica would realize in an instant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you all alright?  What happened” he asks, forcing himself to turn away from Malcolm and look back at Ainsley and Jessica.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I--we’re..” Jessica begins, but it's clear she’s struggling to even grasp the situation herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nevermind, you’re alive, that’s all that matters,” Gil assures her with a small smile before turning his attention back to Malcolm.  He lets himself reach up to cup a hand around the back of Malcolm’s neck like he often does and tries not to get choked up when he speaks.  “Hey kid, it’s good to see you in one piece.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm lifts his head enough to meet Gil’s eyes and a small smile ghosts over his lips for the briefest of moments before his face falls and he looks away quickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Gil</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he whispers, and it sounds so broken that Gil can’t hold back the tears building at the corner of his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re gonna be okay, kid, just hang in there a little longer, the ambulance will be here any second,” he says, squeezing Malcolm’s neck and allowing himself the small comfort of rubbing his thumb gently over Malcolm’s neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm shudders and he leans further into Jessica, turning his head away from Gil’s touch.  The actions are small and barely noticeable, but Gil is hyper-aware of everything Malcolm does on a normal day--even more so now--and he frowns.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Before he can think any further on Malcolm’s response the front door opens and two teams of medics hurry into the room and make their way towards the couch.  Gil stands and moves to the side reluctantly, knowing he’d only be in the way and slow them down by staying too close. As Jessica stands and the medics carefully maneuver Malcolm onto a waiting stretcher Gil gets his first good look at the blood that covers Malcolm’s whole left side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Malcolm</span>
  </em>
  <span>, oh my god,” he gasps under his breath.  Jessica shoots him a wide-eyed look as if Gil’s concern has just confirmed the worry she’d been feeling this whole time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulls himself together, knows that losing it now won’t help anything.  It’s amazing that Malcolm is even conscious, but if he’s held on for this long then Gil is sure that he’ll pull through just fine.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t hug Malcolm, they’ve already got him loaded on the stretcher, so he steps over and wraps his arms around Jessica instead.  “It’s going to be okay,” he assures her as she clings to him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ainsley insists on walking out on her own, but they all make their way outside then.  Gil desperately wants to go straight to the hospital, but until JT and Dani arrive he can’t afford to leave.  He hurries to Malcolm’s side as the medics prepare to load him into the ambulance. Jessica is with Ainsley, helping her to get settled into the second bus and Gil takes advantage of her temporary distraction.  He reaches out and grasps Malcolm’s uninjured hand in his, runs his thumb back and forth over the back of his hand as he finally gets a good look at his lover’s face. Malcolm startles at the touch and looks up at him with wide, haunted eyes.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I”m sorry,” he whispers, tears forming in the corners of his eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil frowns, confusion and heartbreak threatening to overpower him.  “Baby, you have nothing to be sorry for,” he whispers, low enough that only Malcolm can hear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm sobs, his face twisting into a grimace of pain and sorrow that Gil doesn’t understand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The medics step in, push him gently but firmly aside and load Malcolm into the ambulance.  Jessica appears at his side, looks hopefully up at the medics. “I want to go with him,” she says.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They look between each other, hesitating, and she presses on.  “Both of my children were just attacked by a </span>
  <em>
    <span>serial killer</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  My son has been missing for almost 24 hours.  I need to be with him now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unsurprisingly, she gets her way. Gil helps her up into the back and assures her he’ll follow as soon as he’s able.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watches as both ambulances pull away and wishes once more that he could follow immediately, relief warring with uncertainty as he thinks about Malcolm’s behavior and worry over his physical and mental health consumes his thoughts for several minutes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There’s a commotion at the door and it draws him from his stupor.  He turns to see two uni’s leading a handcuffed Watkins down the stairs towards a waiting squad car.  Anger sweeps over Gil, driving away the fear and doubt as he watches them walk by. Watkins looks up at him briefly as they pass and his face spreads into a wide, manic grin.  He says nothing, just smiles and laughs quietly to himself. Gil doesn’t react, watches impassively until Watkins is secured in the back of the squad car before turning and heading back into the house.  CSU has begun to arrive, and he has a job to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>By the time Gil arrives at the hospital Malcolm is out of surgery and in recovery, though he hasn’t woken up yet.  Jessica meets him in the waiting room, pulls him over to a quiet corner and updates him on Malcolm’s condition.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They said the stab wound was deep, but not lethal.  It missed his vital organs, thank God. His left metacarpal was fractured, he has a cast.  They don’t think the head wound is serious but they won’t be able to tell for sure until he wakes up.  He’s stable, but he’s lost a lot of blood, and they’re worried about the prolonged stress his body has been under.  He should be fine, but...” she trails off, sniffs once and brushes away a tear.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil nods, holds her hand as she talks.  She’s so strong, and he’s reminded of the fact that Malcolm is much more like his mother than his father.  He tells her as much as she smiles, laughs it off, but he knows she appreciates the sentiment. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I see him?” he asks hesitantly.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to push, to step over whatever line it is that separates his concern for Malcolm as a father-figure and long time friend and whatever it is he is to the kid now.  Lover? Boyfriend? Sugar Daddy? They’ve joked and danced around terms but never really defined their relationship.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessica nods and he stands, helps her to her feet with hand on her elbow.  “He’s still sleeping, or sedated. Whichever, I’m not sure. I know he won’t be happy with the sedatives but they had to in order to operate.  It’ll be good for someone to be there, when he wakes up, and I need to take Ainsley home so she can get some proper rest. Can you stay with him?” she asks, and it's more than Gil could have hoped for.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, Jessica.  I’ll stay as long as I need to.  Take care of Ainsley, I’ll let you know when he’s awake.  Try not to worry too much, he’s going to be fine,” he assures her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She smiles shakily, but nods, pulls herself together like he’s seen her do so many times and leads him to Malcolm’s room, back straight and steps sure.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first thing Gil notices is how small Malcolm looks, how vulnerable.  He’s paler than usual, though not frighteningly so, and the bruises that show from underneath the bandage over the wound on his forehead stand out starkly against his skin.  He also looks like he’s truly at rest, something Gil is unused to seeing when Malcolm is sleeping. He rarely relaxes, even in sleep, his face often lined with worry and tension.  But now, under the influence of heavy sedation, his face is smooth and he looks years younger, a sudden reminder of the many years that separate them in age and the fact that he’s old enough to be Bright’s father.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It’s something he’s struggled with before, something he struggled with for years as he found himself growing more and more attracted to the younger man.  Malcolm had never had a problem with it. When they’d finally admitted their feelings for each other Malcolm had immediately dismissed Gil’s doubts about their difference in age, life stage and even social status.  When Bright committed to something, he committed 100% and that included his relationship with Gil. Even though they’d mutually agreed that keeping it under wraps would be easiest for everyone, Malcolm had made it clear that if Gil was ever comfortable enough to go public then he would be, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pushes the ever present doubt aside and walks into the room, quietly approaches Malcolm’s bed.  “Hey there, kid,” he whispers. “You’re gonna be okay. Take all the time you need, but come back to us soon, alright?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Jessica smooths the hair back from his face lovingly and gives his uninjured hand a gentle squeeze.  “Call me as soon as he wakes up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will, Jess.  Now, go. Ainsley needs her mother, too,” Gil urges.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it's selfish of him, to want time alone with Malcolm, to touch him and talk to him without anyone else around to make inferences or judgements, but he doesn’t care.  He’s been holding back for so long and he’s ready to be selfish now. And Ainsley </span>
  <em>
    <span>does</span>
  </em>
  <span> need Jessica, too, more than Jessica sometimes realizes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She nods, gives Malcolm one last motherly look of concern, then leaves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil waits till the sound of her heels on the linoleum have faded away before he pulls a cheap plastic chair over and sits next to Malcolm’s uninjured side.  He takes his hand in both of his own and rubs circles into the back of his hand with his thumb, leans over and plants a gentle kiss on his forehead.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come back to me, Bright,” he whispers, but there’s no response.  Not that he expected one, but patience has never been his strong suit.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A nurse walks in and he nearly yanks his hands away, but stops himself.  The touch is perfectly innocent and she doesn’t know him from Adam. She does seem surprised to see him there, though, and glances around uncertainly, probably looking for Jessica.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um, sorry I just wanted to check Mr. Bright’s vitals.  Are you family?” she asks nervously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not quite.  Lieutenant Arroyo, NYPD,” he explains, standing and flashing his badge.  “I’m also an old family friend. Jessica asked me to stay while she takes her daughter home.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The nurse relaxes, nodding in understanding and starts to go about her business, checking monitors and making notes in a file.  She finishes quickly and turns to go, but then stops and holds up a finger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you said NYPD?  Are you, um--is Mr. Bright’s case under your jurisdiction?” she asks.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh, yes, it is.  Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We collected some samples from both Mr. Bright and Miss Whitly, but no one has been by to sign for them.  Would you be able to? Also I wasn’t sure where to send them. I’m new,” she admits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil huffs, gets to his feet, reluctantly releasing Malcolm’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I can do that.  Lead the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She beams at him, clearly relieved to have some sort of direction and heads out into the hall and towards the nurses station.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It's been a while since Gil has had to do something like fill out an evidence bag, but it comes back quickly enough.  He leaves the name lines blank, knowing that the techs at the precinct will recognize both Bright and Ainsley’s names, and hoping to protect their privacy as long as he can.  The case number will be sufficient for the time being. He gives the nurse Edrisa’s information and then returns to Bright’s room to sit with him until he wakes or Jessica returns.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm finally begins to wake nearly an hour later, slowly returning to consciousness.  He moves in his sleep, head turning fitfully on his pillow as small sounds of distress escape his lips on each exhale.  Gil had started to doze off in his chair but he returns to full wakefulness immediately. He grabs Malcolm’s hand, cups his face softly and leans over to try to wake him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Malcolm, hey, you’re okay.  Come on kid, wake up,” he murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This isn’t new.  He’s dealt with Malcolm’s night terrors and violent returns to wakefulness many times over the past several months so at this point he’s an old pro.  Malcolm’s eyelids flutter and his fitful tossing stills under Gil’s touch. Gil can’t help but smile, glad that he can provide the kid some measure of comfort even now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, please.  I don’t want… please don’t,” Malcolm moans quietly, eyes falling closed once more, his distress clear in the way his eyebrows draw together and his forehead creases.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil frowns but doesn’t push.  He knows there’s no rushing this, no forcing Malcolm into wakefulness.  He silently curses Watkins for the millionth time for adding more material to the arsenal of Malcolm’s subconscious.  The last thing the kid needs is more fuel for his nightmares.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil had seen the basement where Malcolm was being held.  The ring in the floor that he’d been shackled to, the pool of Malcolm’s blood.  He can’t even imagine what Malcolm suffered during his time in Watkins’ hands.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally Malcolm wakes fully, eyes darting around the room in panic as he takes in his surroundings, until his eyes finally land on Gil’s face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey kid, easy there.  You’re in the hospital.  You’re alright,” Gil says softly, smiling in relief.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gil… what…” his eyes grow wide suddenly and he begins to look frantically around the room once more.  “Ainsley, mom, where? Watkins, he--” Malcolm falters when he says Watkins’ name, freezing in place, and his face loses what little color it had.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’re fine, Malcolm.  They’re okay. Your mom took Ainsley home to rest.  They’re safe, and Watkins is in custody, thanks to you.  It’s over,” Gil assures him, his voice calm, tone low and measured.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm relaxes, lets out a sigh of relief and his eyes slip closed once more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay, kid?  Does anything hurt?” Gil asks.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm shakes his head, eyes still closed, and turns away from Gil.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m fine.  I’m… you don’t need to be here,” he whispers.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil sits back, stunned and a little hurt.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bright, you don’t have to try to be strong this time.  You went through hell down there, it’s okay to ask for help.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm scoffs, turns back and gives him a look full of hurt and anger.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have no idea what I went through down there,” he rasps out, voice low and broken. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil’s mouth falls open but he doesn’t know what to say, how to respond to the sudden anger radiating from Malcolm, and directed at </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Baby</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he whispers, reaching out tentatively towards Malcolm’s hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm jerks away, hissing in pain at the sudden movement and Gil freezes, withdraws his hand slowly and waits in silence, unsure of what to do next.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of his phone ringing cuts through the heavy silence between them, and Gil jumps a little in surprise.  Malcolm doesn’t acknowledge the sound, doesn’t look at him or react in any way, choosing instead to stare blankly at the far wall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil sighs in frustration as his phone continues to ring but steps out into the hall to answer as soon as he sees that it’s Edrisa.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Edrisa, what’s up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lieutenant Arroyo!  I’m sorry to bother you, but I needed to follow up on some samples that were sent over?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, what’s going on?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I ran the evidence sent over by the hospital, but there appears to be some missing tests?  Do you know who I should follow up with to see if they have any more evidence to send over?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Missing tests?  What do you mean?” Gil asks, confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some of these samples clearly contain semen, but there’s no rape kit.” Edrisa explains, her voice quiet, nearly a whisper.  “The victim seems to have had intercourse, and I’m guessing it wasn’t consensual considering that they’re uh… the victim.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil stops in his tracks, blood running cold as Edrisa’s words sink in.  He’s suddenly grateful he hadn’t told her who the samples belonged to. For all she knew, Bright was still missing.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll get back to you,” he manages to say before ending the call.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He heads immediately to the nurses station and quickly finds the nurse he’d talked to earlier.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you run a rape kit on Malcolm Bright?” he asks without preamble, voice low and miraculously steady.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shakes her head, eyebrows drawn in confusion.  “No, why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our medical examiner found traces of semen in the samples the hospital sent over,” Gil explained.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But that’s, I mean, it seemed that he’d...  There weren’t any signs of… of </span>
  <em>
    <span>sexual</span>
  </em>
  <span> assault.” the nurse explained.  “There was no bruising, no tearing to indicate that he’d been raped.  There was some blood but, quite frankly he was practically covered in it and it was clearly from the stab wound so it didn’t seem to...to </span>
  <em>
    <span>indicate</span>
  </em>
  <span> anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re saying, if he… if he had intercourse then it wasn’t forced?” Gil forces himself to ask, barely maintaining his professional demeanor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t say that for sure, no.  Especially considering the extent of the injuries Mr. Bright suffered.  I can’t imagine…” she shudders, shakes herself visibly before continuing.  “I’m just explaining why I didn’t think to run the kit earlier. There was so much else going on, and none of the signs were there.  That’s all. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she says, pushing past Gil and hurrying down the hall.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil remains frozen in place for several long moments, his mind racing as he tries to process this new information.  Information he probably shouldn’t even have, definitely wouldn’t have if he hadn’t used his status as a law enforcement officer to push for information he really didn’t need.  And now, this. He can’t--there’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>no way</span>
  </em>
  <span> Malcolm would let John--there’s an explanation.  He knows there is. When Malcolm is ready, they’ll talk about it.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>It doesn’t matter, not right now,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he tells himself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He calls Jessica, operating on autopilot, to let her know that Malcolm is awake, then walks slowly back to Malcolm’s room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He can’t just leave--he doesn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>want</span>
  </em>
  <span> to leave.  In the few months since they’ve been sleeping together, since whatever this thing they have started, Malcolm has become the most important thing in his world, and he isn’t going to give up on him now, no matter what difficulties may lie ahead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But Malcolm clearly doesn’t want him there, at least not yet, and now Gil has a pretty good idea of why that may be the case.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Whatever had happened with Watkins in the basement is clearly worse than anything that Gil could have imagined.  He refuses to dwell on it, refuses to let his imagination run wild through the possibilities because none of them are good, and none of them are likely to be the truth.  He’s determined to carry on as nothing has changed until Malcolm is willing to open up to him about the truth of the situation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil stops outside of Malcolm’s door and Malcolm looks up at him, meets his eyes then turns away.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Your mom is on the way, kid.  She’ll be here soon, and I’m sure the doctor will be by to check on you as well.  I can wait with you, if you want?” he offers.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm shakes his head silently.  Gil can see the tears forming in the corner of his eyes from where he stands and his heart breaks.  He wants so desperately to go him, to comfort him with touches and gentle words and assurances of his love but if that’s not what Malcolm wants then he won’t push.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be right down the hall, okay Bright?  I’ll be here if you need anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil sighs and heads for the waiting room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He leaves as soon as Jessica arrives back at the hospital.  He knows it's not healthy for him to wait around, caught up in his own head, and there’s no way he and Malcolm will be able to talk with Jessica there once more.  There’s plenty of busy work for him to take care of it at the precinct, and he tackles it with a single-minded determination that he hasn’t felt towards menial tasks since Jackie died.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He doesn’t go back to the hospital, he can’t bring himself to sit awkwardly by Malcolm’s side, knowing he isn’t wanted and unable to find out why.  He knows if Malcolm wants him there, he’ll call. He keeps his phone close at all times, ringer on throughout the day and night, but the call never comes.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dani and JT visit and bring him updates.  He’s recovering well, he’s quiet, reserved, but healing.  He’ll be going home soon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil plans on going to see him at home as soon as he can.  He holds onto the hope that once they’re in the safety and privacy of Malcolm’s apartment that his boy will open up to him, will let him comfort him and help him deal with these new demons like he always has.  He knows it won't be easy, or fast, doesn’t expect things between them to go back to the way they were right away. He’s willing to wait for Bright for as long as the kid needs. He waited years for him once, and if he has to he’ll do it again, because Malcolm is worth it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shouldn’t be, but Gil is honestly surprised when Bright turns up at the precinct unannounced the day after he’s released.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The team is gathered in the conference room to go over the details of their most recent case when Malcolm walks in, his smile too wide, his broken hand in a large cast held close to his body, protecting both it and the stab wound on his abdomen.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello everyone, what did I miss?” Bright asks with a little wave of his uninjured hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Gil acts on instinct, years of hugging and touching overriding the uncertainty that lingers between them as he reaches out to clap Malcolm on the shoulder.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kid, what--” he begins, but the words die in his throat when Malcolm flinches violently away from him, knocking his hand away and nearly running into Dani as he backpedals to put more space between them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No one says anything.  Dani and JT look shocked, glance between Gil and Bright in confusion and concern.  Bright is breathing heavily, his shoulders hunched around his ears defensively before he takes a deep breath and composes himself and shakes his head, giving them a small, self-deprecating smile.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry, uh.  I’m a little on edge I guess,” he explains.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dani and JT share a look that’s a little too knowing for Gil’s comfort.  He clears his throat, gives them both a pointed look and says “Guys, give us the room?” like it's a request though they all know it's not.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm clenches his jaw, squeezes his right hand into a fist as it starts to tremble at his side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Dani and JT nod, and JT leaves without a word.  Dani pauses next to Bright, leans in close to ask if he’s good.  Gil isn’t sure if he should be glad to see her looking out for the kid, or hurt that she thinks Bright needs to be protected from him.  Malcolm nods once and gives her a small, tight smile. She glances at Gil, and though she’s clearly concerned there’s no blame or anger in her eyes, just worry.  He gives her a nod and a smile as well and she huffs, but leaves, shutting the door behind her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This was a bad idea,” Bright mutters bitterly almost as soon as the door shuts.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think? Bright, what are you doing here?” Gil asks in exasperation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m trying to work,” Malcolm replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You just got out of the hospital, kid.  There’s no way you’re ready to come back to work.  You need to rest, to finish recovering.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m</span>
  </em>
  <span> fine!” Malcolm protests, the emphasis in his words a clear implication that he doesn’t see himself as the problem.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bright, Watkins tortured you, he--  You’re not. Fine.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I really am,” Malcolm insists.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why won’t you look at me, huh?” Gil hisses.  “Why do you flinch every time I try to touch you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm pales, eyes widening in shock at the question before he pulls himself together, gets a handle on his emotions and stares Gil down cooly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you know why, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Lieutenant</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he snarls.  “Stop acting like you don’t know what happened down there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have no idea, kid, because you haven’t talked to me since then!” Gil exclaims.  “I want to help you, Malcolm. You have no idea how badly I want-- But you won’t let me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm winces, drops his gaze, bravado fading away into hurt.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t,” he whispers.  “It’s better if you don’t know, if you just let it go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let what go?” Gil asks.  “Us? What we have? I’m not going to just give up on that, kid.”  He drops his voice down to a whisper, steps in close, but doesn’t touch.  “I don’t care what happened between you and Watkins, Bright. I just want you to talk to me, to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm’s shoulders slump and he sways forward, like he wants to reach out, to lean into Gil for comfort and support, but he holds himself back.  Gil desperately wants to close the gap between them, to wrap his arm around the kids shoulder or clap him on the back of the neck and tell him it will be okay, but he holds himself back, too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Malcolm doesn’t answer, and he doesn’t look at Gil.  He shakes his head, keeps his eyes down and steps away.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t do this,” he whispers, then turns to go, leaving Gil alone in the conference room, heart breaking as he watches his boy walk away.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Space Between</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Gil refuses to let Malcolm go without a fight, no matter how hard the kid tries to push him away.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I got some bad news while I was working on this chapter.  Nothing serious but it put me off my game a little bit, so it might not be the best thing I've ever written.  Sorry about that, hopefully it's not too chaotic!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Gil shows up at his apartment later that afternoon, Malcolm is expecting him.  He’s honestly a little surprised Gil hadn’t been by earlier, or sent someone else to check on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprised, but grateful.  He’d needed the time to think, to set aside his emotional connection to the situation and organize his thoughts.  He knows his behaviour hasn’t been fair to Gil. The man deserves an explanation. He deserves to know just how broken Watkins left him.  Malcolm knows that Watkins was right, no one, not even Gil could possibly want him now, and he wants Gil to know that he understands that, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Malcolm buzzes him in and heads over to his liquor cabinet to pour them both a drink. It’s not going to make this conversation any easier, but he’s always found that having something as simple as a drink in his hand to focus on is helpful during difficult situations.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil enters the loft hesitantly, uncertainty written across every line of his body as he shuts the door behind him softly and takes a few steps into the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm goes to him, holds a glass out as a peace offering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey Gil.  I’m glad you came over,” he says, voice subdued, but earnest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you?” Gil replies.  He’s understandably skeptical, but he takes the offered drink, relaxing slightly at the familiarity of it all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am.  We need to talk.  I wasn’t ready earlier, but I am now,” Malcolm explains.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heads over to his couch knowing Gil will follow.  He sits gingerly on the edge of the cushion, too anxious to truly relax back into his seat.  Gil sits on the chair next to him, rests his elbows on his knees and glances over at Malcolm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kid, talk to me.  Please. Don’t push me away.  I’ve missed--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop! Gil, please.  This is hard enough,” Malcolm cuts in, voice breaking.  “Gil, I’m not… you shouldn’t be with me anymore. Not like we were.  Watkins--when he kidnapped me he--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kid, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Okay? I know what he did to you,” Gil says softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t.  You don’t understand.  You don’t know what kind of person he is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do, Malcolm.  He’s a murderer, and a psychopath.  Whatever he told you, whatever he did, it's not your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm snorts, looking down at his glass and shaking his head.  Gil has always seen the best in him, seen him as a survivor, not a victim, and Malcolm had always believed him.  He’d believed that he was more than just his trauma. But this was different.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is my fault,” he whispers brokenly.  “It is, because I gave him what he wanted.  I… he--he said I was an exception, that I made it good for him because... He </span>
  <em>
    <span>prefers</span>
  </em>
  <span> corpses, Gil.  And I… I tried to fight but in the end I just gave him what he wanted.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trails off, lost in the memories of the way John had looked at him, of how pleased he’d been, after--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I kissed him, Gil,” he continues, voice so low he’s not even sure Gil heard.  “I was willing to give him whatever he wanted, to keep him there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Gil rasps, his voice full of emotion that Malcolm doesn’t want to dwell on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He told me I was ruined, and he was right,” Malcolm chokes out, tears springing to his eyes and catching in his throat.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can’t look at Gil, can’t bear to see the disgust and hurt in his eyes.  </span>
  <em>
    <span>Now he knows, now he’ll understand</span>
  </em>
  <span>, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and he won’t want me anymore</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Malcolm thinks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil sets his glass on the table and starts to stand, and Malcolm huffs out a broken laugh, thinks, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Guess there is such a thing as too broken, even for him.</span>
  </em>
  <span>  But rather than walking away and leaving him there like Malcolm expects, Gil goes to his knees in front of him, leans in and gets as close as he can without touching him.  Malcolm looks down at him in shock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kid, can I touch you, please?” Gil whispers.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm’s too shocked to do anything but nod.  Gil takes his glass and sets it on the table before taking both of Malcolm’s hands in his.  He holds them tightly, rubs his thumb in circles over his skin.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you look at me, please?” he asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to, but Gil’s voice is so tender, so compelling that he complies and raises his eyes to meet the other man’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil’s eyes are bright with unshed tears and filled with pain, but there’s no anger or disgust there.  Just a deep sadness.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malcolm, I can’t imagine what you're going through,” he begins slowly, choosing each word with care, never taking his eyes from Malcolm’s.  “You were in a horrible situation, you fought through it and came out on top.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm scoffs at that, looks away.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“John did not win,” Gil insists, squeezing his hands tightly.  “No matter what he did to you, no matter what he said to you, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>wrong</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Now he’s gone and you are </span>
  <em>
    <span>still here</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  And whatever you need, kid, however long it takes, I’m going to be here, too.  Whatever you want from me, I’ll give it to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil shifts closer, moves one hand to cup it under Malcolm’s chin, tilting it up so he can look Malcolm in the eyes once more and Malcolm shudders but doesn’t pull away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you want space, that’s fine.  I’ll give you all the space you need.  If you need a friend then I’m here, I’ll always be here.  And if you need more, Malcolm, I’ll be here for that, too.  I know you think that John ruined you, that he broke you, but he </span>
  <em>
    <span>didn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  What he did to you doesn’t change the way I feel about you.  You’ve always been a survivor, kid, and that’s what you are now, still.  A fighter. A survivor. That’s all I see when I look at you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm sobs, heart aching as he listens to Gil’s words, feels the sincerity of them in the way he’s touching him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How?” he gasps, “how can you say that?  How can you still want me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, baby.  I love you, Malcolm, I have for years.  I’m not going to let someone like John Watkins change that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm sobs, drops his head into the crook of Gil’s shoulder and starts to cry, his body shaking with silent sobs.  For weeks he’s been resigned to being alone, to being rejected by the man who had meant the world to him for so long, and he’d been angry and miserable because of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil wraps his arms around him, cups the back of his head tenderly in one hand and rests a palm on his back, holding him close as he cries.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm sucks in a ragged breath, body quivering beneath Gil’s touch.  He turns his head into Gil’s neck so he can whisper into his ear, “I don’t want to lose you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil holds him tighter, runs his hand soothingly through Malcolm's hair.  “You haven’t kid, and you won’t. I’m still here,” he promises, turning his head towards Malcolm’s and presses his lips to Malcolm’s forehead.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm jerks back violently, sucking in a panicked breath before he can stop himself and Gil startles, sits back quickly, frowning in concern.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit, shit, Gil I’m sorry,” Malcolm whimpers, shaking his head in frustration.  “I don’t… god, it’s like he’s still </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, still in my head.  I can’t get him out.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kid it’s okay.  It’s okay. I shouldn’t have done that,” Gil responds gently.  He’s still got one hand resting lightly on the back of Malcolm’s neck, and he slowly brings the other to lay on his knee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You shouldn’t have to apologize for trying to comfort me,” Malcolm sobs, his earlier fears of being too broken returning in the face of his subconscious reaction to the most innocent of touches.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will never apologize for trying to help you, kid.  But I will for being thoughtless about it. This isn’t about me right now, got it?  I don’t want you to worry about me. I want you to worry about you, and to tell me if there’s anything I do that makes you uncomfortable or makes it harder for you to heal, you got that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm just sobs harder.  He doesn’t deserve Gil, doesn’t deserve his patience or his love, but Gil is still there, just like he promised, holding onto Malcolm and their relationship strong enough for the two of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If there’s one thing Malcolm knows, it’s that he can trust Gil, and he leans into that knowledge now, allows himself to take everything the older man has told him and face value and accept that what he says he truly means.  For once he doesn’t argue, just nods his head in acceptance of Gil’s words. A sudden wave of bone deep exhaustion washes over him and he slumps back into the couch, rubs a hand over his face to wipe the tears away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t you go to bed, Bright?” Gil suggests, standing and offering his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm takes it, lets Gil pull him up and guide him across the loft to his bed.  Malcolm sighs and for a brief moment he wants Gil to touch him, to take him to bed and stay there with him, but he knows it's a horrible idea and something he’s not ready for.  Instead he catches Gil’s hand, holds it in his own and looks up at him shyly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you help me change?” he asks quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure, kid?” Gil asks, eyes narrowed as he studies Malcolm’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m sure.  I’m so tired, and the cast makes buttons hard,” he admits.  “Maybe just, don’t touch? Just help with the clothes?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, kid.  Whatever you need,” Gil agrees.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stands in front of Malcolm and starts with the buttons on his jacket, then vest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know why you still insist on wearing a three piece suit with a cast, Bright,” he jokes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm laughs quietly, a genuine smile gracing his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A broken hand is no excuse for dressing unprofessionally,” he scolds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil scoffs at that, shaking his head in mock exasperation even as he helps Malcolm out of the jacket and vest.  He moves on to Malcolm’s tie, loosens it and pulls it free of the collar gently. He’s done this so many times, usually with more haste and passion, but there’s something special about this, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s careful as he works at the buttons of Malcolm’s dress shirt, avoids touching his skin as he undoes them one by one.  He lets Malcolm shrug out of it on his own, too, and waits to let Malcolm make the next move.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fidgets for a moment, uncertain as he stands half-dressed in front of Gil.  He’s vaguely uneasy, but only because he feels like he can’t trust his own body.  He knows in his head and in his heart that Gil would never hurt him, that he cares about him.  But he doesn’t trust his body to respond accordingly. He takes a deep breath then nods at Gil, whispers a quiet ‘please’ when Gil asks if he’s sure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil nods and reaches slowly for Malcolm’s belt.  Malcolm can feel his body tensing in response, an irrational panic rising within him as Gil starts to help him out of his pants.  He pushes down on it, forces himself to watch, to look at Gil’s face and follow the line of his shoulder, down his arms to his hands, to convince himself that Watkins isn’t there, that it's just Gil, and he isn’t going to hurt him, won’t even touch him without permission.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can feel the weight of Gil’s gaze on his face as he works, watching for any sign of panic or discomfort and thinks that he’s never loved the man more than in that moment.  A surge of emotion wells up in him and he reaches out to catch Gil’s hands in his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil freezes, his concern clear as he asks if Malcolm’s okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m fine.  You’re fine, I promise,” Malcolm assures him, entwining their fingers as best he can and stepping in close, almost touching.  “I just wanted to say, I love you too, Gil. Thank you, for everything. I don’t deserve--”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil cuts him off, pulls a hand free to place his finger against Malcolm’s lips.  “You do, kid. You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to be loved. Don’t ever forget that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm exhales, releasing a tension he didn’t even realize he’d had.  He presses a gentle kiss to Gil’s finger and looks up at him longingly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I could kiss you right now, but I don’t think it would be a good idea,” he admits regretfully.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, kid.  I know. Let’s get you to bed, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm sighs, but nods.  Gil helps him balance as he strips out of his pants and then leads him to bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want these?” he asks, holding up one of the restraints.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, they don’t bother me,” Malcolm assures him as he collapses back into the pillows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d like to think that he's tired enough that he’ll sleep soundly, without dreaming, but he knows better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil straps him in, something they’ve done many times.  He runs his fingers softly over the skin on the inside of Malcolm’s right wrist before he pulls away, and the gentle touch sends a pleasant little thrill through Malcolm’s body.  He smiles dreamily, happy to know that his body will still react positively to the older man’s touch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll come by in the morning, okay kid?  I don’t want you coming in to work for a little while.  You need to take some time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm nods, knowing that Gil is right.  He wants to go back to work, isn’t worried about avoiding Gil anymore or dealing with dancing around him awkwardly, and it's a huge weight off of his shoulders.  But he’s still got some demons to deal with and jumping right back into profiling isn’t going to help with that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Gil.  I really do love you,” he murmurs as he starts to drift off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t see it, but Gil smiles at him, tears forming in his eyes.  “I love you too, Malcolm. Sleep well, baby.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Put me Back Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It isn't quick or easy, but with time wounds heal.  Malcolm is patient with himself, and Gil is patient, too, and it's definitely worth the wait.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Bonus chapter.  Shameless Broyo smut.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Are you sure about this, baby?” Gil whispers softly into Malcolm’s hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’re sitting next to each other on Malcolm’s couch, bodies pressed together from shoulder to knee.  It’s been almost three months since Malcolm’s escape from Watkins, and they’ve been slowly rebuilding their relationship since then.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over the course of several weeks Malcolm had slowly revealed to Gil the whole of what had happened with Watkins; how he’d passed out from pain and woken up to find that Watkins had raped him, how he’d kissed Watkins and offered himself to him in a desperate attempt to keep him from leaving to kill Jessica and Ainsley.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil always listened intently, never pushing for more information or lashing out when Malcolm expressed his doubts about their relationship time after time.  His eyes would often fill with tears as Malcolm fought through the memories but he never thought differently of him or pitied him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm no longer flinched when Gil touched him, no longer heard Watkins voice in his head when Gil held him or pressed a kiss to his head.  Over the past week they’d shared several heated moments, bodies pressed together, hands grasping and roving, kissing deeply and intently, but they hadn’t gone any further, not yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tonight, though, Malcolm is desperate for Gil’s hands on his body, for his mouth, for his cock.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s been patient with himself, more so than he ever has before when recovering from an injury or ordeal.  He wants to be sure he’s truly ready before trying to take things too far. The last thing he wants is to panic or pull away from the older man, knowing how guilty Gil would feel if he thought he’d rushed him or hurt Malcolm in any way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t answer Gil’s question out loud, instead he eases himself into his lap, slides a leg over his hips and settles there, facing him.  He wraps his arms around Gil’s neck and kisses him deeply.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil groans into the kiss, settles his hands on Malcolm’s hips and pulls him in tight, pressing him down and grinding against him with slow rolls of his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Malcolm, baby.  I don’t know how well I’m gonna be able to control myself.  You gotta set the pace here, tell me what you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm moans in reply, pulls back from the kiss and moves his lips to the sensitive skin just behind Gil’s ear, kissing his way slowly down his neck.  Gil drops his head back against the couch with a low groan, leans his head to the side to give better access to Malcolm’s roving lips.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm reaches down, grasps blindly at the hem of Gil’s sweater and pulls it up, sits back only long enough to get it up over his head before he’s pressing his lips to Gil’s skin once more, dipping his tongue into the hollow below his clavicle, biting down on his collarbone and before soothing the sting away with a broad swipe of his tongue.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil lets out a ragged, desperate moan at the feel of Malcolm moving against him and of his lips on his skin, eyes shut tight as he fights to hold himself in check, to resist the urge to push Malcolm into the couch and finally take what he's been aching for, waiting patiently all these many months.  He moves his hands from Malcolm’s hips down to the swell of his ass and digs his fingers into the firm muscle there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm stills, and even as far gone as he is Gil notices the change and pauses as well, opens his eyes to check on the younger man.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” he whispers, running his hands gently over Malcolm’s ass, down once and back up  to his hips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm drops his head, rests his forehead against Gil’s shoulder and nods.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Yeah, it's good.  It is, I just need to push through it.  Don’t stop, please,” he begs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil complies, trusting that Malcolm knows what he wants, and continues to run his hands over his ass.  He alternates his touches between soft, broad sweeps of his hand and gentle squeezes as he let’s Malcolm get used to the feel of his hands on his body once more.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm kisses him on the mouth softly before resuming his exploration of Gil’s chest with his tongue and lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They're both hard, their erections rubbing against each other through their clothes.  When Malcolm nips at the skin just under his jaw Gil thrusts his hips up hard in response and they both moan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to wait anymore,” Malcolm whimpers, grinding himself down hard into Gil’s lap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil doesn’t argue, more than ready himself.  “Clothes, now,” he orders, reaching down to pull at the hem of Malcom’s shirt and drag it up over his head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm complies, shimmies out of his shirt, then pants.  He grabs at the hem of Gil’s pants and pulls them down, Gil lifting his hips to assist, then pulling Malcolm back into his lap as soon as they’re both naked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this okay kid?” he whispers into Malcolm’s ear.  “You gotta tell me how you want it, what you need from me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just need you, Gil,” Malcolm moans out as he settles himself over Gil’s cock, grinding down with his hips to rub against it insistently.  “Just like this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil cups a hand around his neck to pull him into a kiss, open mouthed and filthy.  They stay that way for several long moments, Malcolm writhing in his lap, until they're both breathless and desperate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, Gil.  Want you inside me, need to feel you,” Malcolm groans against his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil runs his hand down Malcolm’s back, tracing each vertebrae as his hand slowly glides down to where they both want it most.  His fingers slip between the globes of Malcolm’s ass to search out the tight furl of muscle there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil’s eyes go wide as he easily slips two fingers inside, Malcolm’s body already loose and slick with lube.  Malcolm sits back onto his fingers, rolling his hips to fuck himself down on Gil’s hand. The grin that spreads over his face is coy, almost shy, as Gil looks at him in wonder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long have you been planning this?” Gil asks, voice low and husky as he slips a third finger into Malcolm’s hole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ngh</span>
  </em>
  <span>, pretty much all day,” Malcolm admits, pausing briefly to let his body adjust to the added width before continuing to ride Gil’s fingers.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How close, kid?  Don’t know if I can wait much longer,” Gil asks roughly, working his fingers to rub against Malcolm’s prostate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm lets out a desperate groan when Gil hits the right spot, gasping and clutching tight to Gil’s neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck, Gil, I’m ready.  There’s lube, condom in the basket on the table.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get them,” Gil orders, continuing to fuck Malcolm with his fingers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm whines but obeys, twists in Gil’s lap to reach behind him for the items, Gil holding tight to his hip with his free hand to keep him from toppling to the floor.  Gil hums appreciatively at the display as Malcolm stretches, his eyes roving greedily over the younger man’s body, his thumb rubbing impatient circles over Malcolm’s hip bone, cock hard and aching against his stomach.  Malcolm turns back and Gil pulls his fingers free of Malcolm’s body only long enough to slick them up before pushing back in.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get that condom on me, kid,” he orders and Malcolm scrambles to comply, tearing the package open with shaky hands, nearly dropping the little disk as he tries to settle it over Gil’s cock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey kid, breathe.  You good?” Gil checks in once more, unsure if the tremor in Malcolm’s hand and his suddenly erratic breathing are the result of fear or excitement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm takes a deep, steadying breath and meets his eyes with a smile.  “Yeah, I’m good, I’m good. Sorry it’s just… been awhile.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me kid, I know.  Not get that on me so I can fuck you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm nods eagerly, rolls the condom on with much steadier hands.  Gil groans at the sensation, bites his lip as Malcolm continues to stroke him even after the condom is on.  Malcolm rises up onto his knees, whining softly as Gil’s fingers slip free from his body, leaving him open and empty, and positions himself over the other man’s cock.  Gil holds tightly onto Malcolm’s hip as he waits, holding himself in check and letting Malcolm move at his own pace, tortuously slow as he lowers himself down till the tip of Gil’s cock is pressed against his entrance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm steadies himself over Gil, a hand on each shoulder, and lowers himself down onto his cock, eyes closed and head thrown back, mouth opened in a silent moan as he sinks all the way down until he’s seated fully on Gil’s lap once more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck, Gil.  Fuck, you feel so good inside me,” Malcolm gasps out.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes are impossibly blue, blown wide with pleasure as he looks down at Gil with so much love that Gil thinks his heart might burst.  Gil groans desperately and it takes every ounce of self-control that he possesses not to thrust up into the tight heat of Malcolm’s body, to let the kid take his time.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It feels like an eternity before Malcolm moves; small, gentle rolls of his hips at first before finally starting to ride Gil properly, lifting himself and sliding back down with a long moan, slow at first but quickly gaining speed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes baby, just like that,” Gil groans.  “God, Malcolm you feel so good. You’re driving me crazy, kid.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He runs his hands over Malcolm’s thighs, scraping over his skin with his fingernails, leaving long red lines and sending sparks of pleasure through Malcolm as the pain quickly turns into something better and Malcolm gasps, tightening around Gil, his pace faltering slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil’s control finally snaps and he grasps tightly onto both of Malcolm’s hips, takes charge of his pace and snaps his hips up, thrusting up into him while simultaneously pulling Malcolm down to meet the thrust.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm lets out a shout of surprise, scrabbling desperately at Gil’s shoulders as he gives himself over to the other man, let’s Gil move him how he wants, tiny little gasps escaping his lips with each thrust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, ah, ah, oh fuck, Gil, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>.  Just like that,” Malcolm moans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Baby, I wanna lay you down, is that okay?” Gil manages to gasp out.  “Wanna fuck you properly, make you come like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm nods, leans in to press a desperate kiss to Gil’s lips and wrap his arms tightly around his neck and shoulders.  “Yes, please, take me hard, Gil, need to feel you,” he whispers into Gil’s ear, hot breath tickling over the sensitive shell and working Gil up even more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil lifts Malcolm so he can pull out, practically tossing the kid off of him in his haste to get him laid out on the couch so he can fuck him how he wants.  He manhandles Malcolm into position till he’s leaning against the arm of the couch, body stretched out beautifully beneath Gil as he moves back into place behind him, grabs his hips and prepares to push back inside Malcolm’s tight, hot hole.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, </span>
  <em>
    <span>shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Gil wait,” Malcolm gasps suddenly, twisting violently in Gil’s grip and throwing a hand out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil pulls back, eyes wide with concern and surprise.  “Malcolm, baby, what’s wrong? What did I do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t…. not like this, please?  I need to see you, need to know it's you,” Malcolm explains, turning over so he’s on his back, looking up at Gil with wide, frightened eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Malcolm, I’m so sorry.  Whatever you need, baby,” Gil soothes, running a gentle hand over Malcolm’s flank to settle him, shifting their positions so Gil’s laying between his legs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gil, fuck me now, please.  I’m fine, this is good. I need you inside me, need to feel you,” Malcolm babbles, fingers clutching at Gil’s shoulders and arms, moving restlessly and touching as much of Gil as he can reach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil exhales roughly, lines back and pushes back in with one steady stroke, bottoming up with a groan, settling into a more comfortable position before settling into a steady rhythm, fucking hard and fast into Malcolm’s pliant body as Malcolm moans beneath him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not gonna last much longer, baby.  Touch yourself for me, yeah? Want you to come around me,” Gil murmurs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Malcolm groans, wraps a hand around himself and starts to stroke in time with Gil’s thrusts, the sounds of their coupling filling the room, low groans and the slap of skin on skin as Gil thrusts into him.  It doesn’t take him long once he starts working his cock, a few more strokes before Malcolm is arching on the couch, body tightening around Gil as he comes with a cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gil’s pace quickens, hips stuttering and then he’s coming too, stilling as he presses deeply into Malcolm, coming with a long, low moan before collapsing down on top of Malcolm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They lay there together in silence for a few breathless moments, breathing heavily, wrapped around each other as they catch their breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gil, I love you so much,” Malcolm whispers into the silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, kid.  I love you too.  ‘M never going to let you go again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not going anywhere.  Always going to be yours,” Malcolm replies, wrapping his arms around Gil’s shoulders and pulling him close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They kiss, slow and tender, whispering promises into each other’s skin and Malcolm feels more broken pieces slot back into place as he rests safe in Gil’s arms.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much for reading! If you are enjoying this fic, love Prodigal Son, and are 18+, I'd love for you to come hang out on the brand new <a href="https://discord.gg/6ytNM9jDBf">Discord Server</a> that SomeRainMustFall and I started! It is open to all ship-positive, kink-positive people who are looking for a space to chat, get to know, and enjoy the show with other fans in a safe and positive environment!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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